White, Blue, and Red
by ShadowsClaw
Summary: When Russia is forced to babysit his little sister at the World Academy, he feels somewhat content. That is, until the school fumbles up on the rooming and Russia is forced with his childhood bully. Worse yet, when a new, rich popular beau arrives at the school, things get a little heated. (Wicked AU. No human names used.)
1. Chapter 1

**The train click-clacked** against the rails and my sister's head bounced against my shoulder with every bump. She was asleep of course. Her legs tucked neatly under her skirt and her immobile legs restrained to her wheelchair with a soft, white cloth. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and stroked her beautiful blond hair with my other hand. I sighed and I closed my eyes, leaning back in my chair.

The train was a nice one, but we, of course, were in first-class. With our own compartment and a personal waiter, it was by far the nicest thing my father had ever bought for us. Well, me. While my younger sister was showered with presents and riches – my older sister and I were shoved into a corner, and blamed for Belarus' bad legs.

"Little sis," I said, shaking her shoulder. Her light blue eyes fluttered open and flickered towards me.

"Big brother." She replies softly. Her voice was still crackly from sleep and she quickly cleared her throat. "Will we be there soon?"

"Yes," I say, yet again, smoothing her hair back, "A little less than half an hour now."

She nodded and sat up regally straight – it was normal for her; it may have scared a few people off, but she's restricted to a wheelchair – she needs all the height she can get.

My little sister is gorgeous. Gold-spun hair, crystal blue eyes – the image of a snow-queen beauty. But, unfortunately, she doesn't play nice with others. Only me and my big sister, Ukraine.

Belarus knocked me out of my thoughts. "Russia?"

"Yes, little sis?"

She fidgeted in her chair uncomfortably, "Do you think people will make fun of me?"

I gave her a good, hard, cold look. "No! Of course not! Why would people make fun of my little sis?"

"Because...'cause, I'm in a wheelchair and I'm crippled and-"

"Little sis, little sis. Listen, you are beautiful, da?" I cup her face in my hands. "Very, very beautiful and smart." She smiled at me like I was an angel personally sent from heaven just for her.

"I love you, big brother."

"I love you too, little sis."

**T****he waitress **silently opened our door and poked her head in, squeaking out a, "We'll be arriving at he station in five minutes Ms." And then noticed me and hastily added, "Sir." slamming the door shut. My sister, due to her high popularity and pure frightfulness to outsiders, was always the one people kept a wary eye on. And rightfully too, the last time the maid came in late – well, let's not get into that.

She definitely took after our father; an equally frighting man named General Winter. Many a praises were sung for our father; a daring war-hero, a skilled military mind, a stone-cold heart. Said the only thing he loves is his youngest daughter, Belarus – practically his female twin.

He'd paid for the fanciest college for his sweet little girl with a pleased smile, but for me – his only son – had paid for the tuition with a sneering look and reassurance Belarus' safety was more prioritized then the actual school-work.

I felt the train start to slow, and soon was at a complete stop – safe inside the station. Belarus looked at me with hopeful eyes and grinned happily at the prospect of going somewhere new. I returned the happy face with a little less enthusiasm and gripped the handles of her wheelchair.

With aid from the train's staff – we were soon in the station of the World Academy or WA for sort.

"Ready?" I ask my sister and she nods in reply. I wheel her along to the cluster of people from the disembarking train forming in the corner. A large, muscled man with cropped blond hair and stunningly blue eyes stood on a bench with his arms crossed across his chest. He looked fierce, for sure, but nothing like my dad.

"Students of the World Academy." He boomed with a German accent. "I am Germany, and you are all gathered here today as nations, ready to take your place among the world as a country." He lets the small chatter of excitement bubble down before continuing.

"But with this title comes responsibility, courage, and honor. Here to help you get on your feet in the World Academy." He smiles,

"It has never failed a nation."

A large cheer rose now, even from my little sister. They were whooping and hollering away. Except me. I stood in the back of the crowd thinking to myself. Knowing I'd have to do what my older sister did – I'd have to find my own way to becoming a country. After all, I was only here to watch after Belarus, and make sure she made the grade.

I snap back to attention as I here the German's voice again. 'Let's not waste another moment, yes? Who's excited to see who their roommate is?"

As it turns out, quite a few of them.

The rooming plan was simple, two to a room, and boys with boys and girls with girls. Except me a Belarus. Due to my father's paranoia, me and Belarus were roomed together so I could watch over her.

"I already know _my _roommate." A silk-smooth voice comment, jarring me from my thoughts. "Me, myself, and I." Everyone turns to look at the man with enough gall to say such a thing.

I stare, my mouth slightly agape. Oh sweet mother of sanity, how on earth did he get into this school? Oh wait, I know – his parents bribed the school-board.

There he was, lounging atop his multiple suitcases, twirling his long hair carelessly in one hand.

France.

France was going to the World Academy. France was literally sitting a suitcase feet away from me.

France had been sent by the devil to piss me off.

"Whoa..." A boy commented softly to his friend.

Whoa indeed. France, back home, was known for being a bit of a playboy. And by that I mean the richest kid in school, other than me of course, with a sharp taste for food, clothes, and accessories.

'_He's the sweetest thing!' _I remember a teacher commenting to everyone who passed by. And everyone agreed. Everyone loved France.

That is, except for me.

While France was kind to all the other, 'countries-to-be', I was relentlessly picked on by France and his posy. At least his friends hadn't passed the exam.

Let me explain. To become a country – which, of course, is the only thing people want to be, you must first go through a special school. Ages four through 16, then – depending on your family's wealth, were sent to the World Academy or had to find a way to tough it on your own. My older sister took to farming to feed her people.

Today, he was dressed in a thin, almost see-through fabric, form fitting shirt and extremely short shorts, colored in a bright red. It was disturbingly showy.

Germany shook his head. "We shall begin. Room 101; Mr. Italy and Mr. England. Room 102: Mr. Japan and Mr. China." I saw two young, raven-haired boys glance warily at each other.

"Room 103; Mr. France and Mr. Russia."

France audibly gasped and I furrowed my brow. "Um," I began. "Mr. Germany, I mean no disrespect but you see, I was supposed to room with my sister and um-"

"Nonsense!" Germany replied. "No boy shall room with a girl."

I opened my mouth to speak, but then shut it. I shook my head. I would just write to General Winter and he'd sort this all out. The rule seemed silly to me though. Most countries are male, and do to that fact, most countries were gay anyway.

France on the other hand, seemed much more inclined to fight. "Non, non! I can not be forced to share my bed-chamber with anyone. I need my beauty sleep!" He said with a dismissing wave of his hand. "I must have my own room. This perfection doesn't just come overnight."

"We will deal with this later." Germany replied coolly. I sighed. Whether or not we were discussing it later was irrelevant. It was clear Germany was keeping everyone where they were and that was that. I definitely needed to write General Winter. I stood and waited silent as everyone received their rooms and roommates. The keys were distributed and we were told to meet in the school's lobby after we'd settled ourselves in our rooms to receive our class list and map of the school. Settling in with France, I could already tell, was not going to be fun.

**I, sadly, managed to **get lost in the twisting, confusing halls of the school and found my room late. Then, after throwing my stuff on the untaken bed, as everywhere else in the room was cluttered with random bits of France's clothes, scrambled down the route to the lobby where everyone was waiting for me. Embarrassing? Very.

A couple other students giggled to themselves as I walked past, slightly sweaty form running down the halls in my heavy overcoat and scarf, and grabbed my class list/map from Mr. Germany.

"Spasiba." I mumbled and headed the back of the crowd, where hopefully I wouldn't be seen and would be forgotten.

"Now," Germany started, "Breakfast is 6 – 7:30, school begins at 8:00. Classes will go to 12:00, and at 12:00 will be your lunch break. Lunch ends at 12:30 and classes end at 3:00. Dinner will be brought to your rooms at 6:00 and everyone will be in there rooms at six." He said this with absolute authority. "Any questions?"

The room was dead silent.

"Good, you have tonight to get comfortable.' He turned to leave and everyone left for their rooms. I chased after my sister, who was being wheeled by who I assumed to be her roommate.

"Little sis." I called and place a hand on the shoulder of her roommate who in turn stopped and allowed me to crouch down to my sister. She smiled brightly as she always did and patted my hand.

"Russia, It's okay. I like Hungry." I glanced at the roommate, whom I assumed to be Hungry.

"Alright." I said, and took her hand. "But if you need me, I'm in room 103 okay?" She nodded. "What room are you in?"

"109." She turned to Hungry. "We can go now." And I knew I'd been dismissed.

**When I returned **to my room, France was lounging on my bed and poking through my bag. For goodness sakes, he had at least six of his own!

"What are you doing?" I asked cautiously.

He glances up lazily. "Just checking to see if all your clothes are that hideous."

I balled my fists. "Well, than yes. Please go back to your own side of the room." France glared at me and flapped his lips and made that hand sign that implied you were making fun of someone's words. I take a deep breath before walking towards my bed and swiftly grabbed for my pajamas then made my way to the bathroom to shower.

I locked the door behind me and stepped into the warming water of the shower.

**AN: Hello y'all! Thanks all for reading and I hope you enjoyed (and will review ;o) ). Please feel free to mention any mistakes or requests you have. And, cross my heart, I will update my Friday, August 9th, Pacific Time ;o) ~ Shadow **


	2. Chapter 2

**France was snoring **nosily when I awoke the next morning. I stretched out and glanced towards the red lettered digital clock on the nightstand next to my bed.

3:16, it blinked in bold numerals. Oh well, sleep was worth a try at least. And technically, 3:16 was still morning. I, as quietly as I could, crept to my bag. Thankfully France had fallen asleep as soon as he was out of the shower. Practically face-planted on his bed. I pulled the covers over his shoulders and then just sat there, pleased that for the first time, I could be in the same room as France and not have to put up with his crap.

I slowly started to take out my neatly folded clothes and planned to put them in a drawer when I remember. Oh, right. I was here to watch Belarus. We were probably going to switch rooms if General Winter ever heard of the mix up. I remember Belarus though, asking me not to write him. I put my clothes back in my bag and then kicked it under my bed, just in case.

I pulled my scarf over my mouth and ears and wrapped my arms around my body, justing sitting on my bed. I didn't have anything to do – deciding not unpack. It wasn't everyday I didn't have any duties to attended to. I poked my head under the bed and unzipped my bag, pulling out a book. It was a book on the history of Germany. The famous nation that helped run this school. I'd started to read it so I could give my sister the general gist of the him. I skimmed it, bored.

My gaze flickered to the door. Everyone was else was asleep. No one would wonder if I stepped out and explored a bit right?

I bit my lip and reached for my map, which was resting on my bedside table along with that terribly annoyingly red clock.

I pulled on my overcoat and quickly made for the door, closing it softly behind me.

**Leave it to me to **get lost with a map. A worthless map, I curse, as I flip it for the umpteenth time. I think hard, trying to back-track my steps back to my room.

A left, then a another, and then the stairs- no, it was the right turn.

Sweet goodness, I'm bad with directions. I stare at the map. If I stare at it long enough, it will magically change and have a moving 'You are here!' sign on it like a GPS. Yeah, I thought, that's what need. I need a GPS. And I need to implant it my arm or something, so I couldn't lose it.

My slight reverie is shattered by the loud voice of a boy, and a chorus of 'shhs' that followed the outburst. I furrow my brow and walk slowly to the large window pane to my left. Where the sound had come from.

I peak out, hoping they can't see me in the moon-lit room through a window. Probably not.

Down below, there is a car. And not a dinky Saab or anything – no, no, It was one of those fancy sports cars the rich and famous owned.

Like my dad for instance.

I watch, feeling slightly awkward crouching infront a window, and see a young boy – most certainly the one that'd been yelling before. I couldn't make out much of his form; I'd could only see because of a harsh yellow light glowing above the lot, but I could tell he was wearing a bright red shirt and had a angered look on his face.

He wasn't pleased with something.

Across from him was Germany, who stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the boy with a curious look. Germany tilted his head towards the school. I jump.

I should probably find my room soon.

**The next time I woke, **France was looming over me with a crazy grin.

"Good morning, sleepy-head!" He said brightly. He gripped my shoulders. "Time to get up."

I rub my head, "What time is it?" I ask, my voice crackly.

"Ohonhon! 10:30!"

I shot out of bad like a rocket. "In the morning!? We're late!"

France laid back on his bed. "So? The teachers haven't come for us yet!"

I quickly dove under my bed for my bag. I stop suddenly. "France," I start cautiously, "where's my bag?"

He chuckles, "Ohohohoh," He lifts his eyebrows and gives a devilish smile. "You mean that tacky 'knapsack'?" He rolled his eyes. "I checked, there's no way that those pitiful clothes are going to get you any attention." He looked me dead in the eyes. "From anyone."

I frowned. "I'm not looking for attention from anyone." I reply. "Just give me my clothes."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Non, non. Wear this." He holds up a long, blue silk shirt and short, short blue...well, shorts.

I glare at him, "You're kidding me right?" I wrap my arms around my shoulders. My usual attire were long pants, long shirt, what people told me was a formless overcoat, and my scarf. I love my scarf. It's a pale-pink and unbelievably soft – it belonged to my sister.

"My clothes are fine and I'd like them back now." I said, anger starting to boil in my stomach. I wanted to go to class, but not in pajamas and a scarf.

He again shook his head, eyes closed with a smirk on his face. He lifted the clothes in his hands higher.

"I'm not wearing shorts." I comment. "But I'll wear the shirt if you give me my things back."

France seemed to me mulling it over and finally nodded his head. "Stay here." He said and darted off quickly out the door. I debated on following him, but decided to stay put and see what happened. After a minute or two, he returned holding a pair of my long pants and the blue shirt.

He threw them at me from across the room. Embarrassed, I scampered in the bathroom to change. The shirt, though looking very long next to France, fit me rather snuggly and the sleeves only came to my forearm. I'd never thought of myself as strong, but wearing this – I looked like a body-builder.

I tied my scarf around my neck – trying my best to conceal as much as I could with it before stepping out at glaring at France.

"Happy?" I ask, raising my hands.

He frowned, "Only a little." The reply.

I rolled my eyes and rip the shirt off, deciding to just go in my pajama shirt; a white and blue stripped short-sleeved. "I'm going to school."

France remained lounging on his bed, seemingly not caring about his shirt, "Have fun." He said lazily. I closed the door and did my best to find my class.

**When I'd finally gotten there, **it was nearing the end of lunchtime. When I entered the food court, no one really paid me much head – except my sister, who had evidently been concerned.

"Where were you?" She hissed. I glance at her. She was sitting with her roommate, Hungary and a couple others – I assumed Hungary's friends. "And why are you wearing your pajamas?"

I shook my head, "It's a long story but here's the gist-" I was interrupted by probably the most annoying laugh I'd ever heard in my entire lifetime.

"Hey guys!" He yelled over the quieting chatter. He wore a leather jacket unzipped over a plan white T-shirt and long, blue pants. I widen my eyes. I hadn't seen him very well, but I was sure. This was the boy from last night. Well, earlier this morning.

He pumped his fist in the air, getting the others all riled up. "I'm America, bitches!"

There was a wide variety of expressions. Shock, curiosity, disbelief. I, myself didn't know which one to be.

A white haired man stood and clapped his hands. "Yeah! Dude, sit with me!" They grasped hands and 'America' sat down with the white haired boy.

My sis and her new friends seemed fascinated by this new boy – though I couldn't really see why, he'd been pretty damn annoying so far. But, then again, I hadn't spoken to him – who was I to judge?

"Big brother," My little sister said to me, "let's go meet America." I bite my lip and nod, grabbing the handles of her wheel chair and pushing her to his table. Hungary and her friends all rose to meet and greet America with her. I smiled; it's good that's she's making some friends.

"America." My sister says in a stern tone. He had been laughing with the white haired boy but stopped and turned to her. He grinned.

"Hey, babe! Sup?"

My sister does not laugh, she does not blush – she just stares at him, her eyes narrowed. She wasn't actually angry, she's just always that way.

"I am Belarus." She announces and extends a hand in greeting.

"America." He's still grinning as he shakes her hand.

"I'm Hungary," The brunette pipes in. She also receives a hand shake.

"Want a burger then?" He replies, and laughs at his own joke. No one else got it. He notices this after only a second or two. "Get it? 'Cause you're Hungary?"

"What's a burger?" She asks. Realization spreads over America's face.

"Oh! Right! It's this really great food I invented. You take beef, pound into a patty shape, and then like you know – cook it, and then put it on a hamburger bun, which is like, a totally awesome kind of bread I invented for it. Anyway, then you add like, ketchup; sorry, tomato ketchup," he corrects himself, "and then some lettuce and shit." He smiles. "It's like, so good! 'Specially with fries! Another food I made!"

He stopped for a moment to stuff his face with the bread on the table. "I'll make it for you guys sometime."

People laughed and chuckled and soon where settled in seats next to America and the white haired boy – who's name was Prussia. I stood awkwardly behind Belarus, who was laughing along with the rest of them. I, occasionally, attempted to input an an opinion – but for the most part, I wasn't heard.

I didn't mind though. It was fun just to watch everyone chit-chat amongst themselves. I was very glad the fact I was wearing my pajama shirt had been forgotten. I was starting to have a good time, that is, until France decided he wanted to walk in.

"Ohohohoh," France laughed. "you must be America! I am France." He embraced America and kissed each of his cheeks; then smiled warmly at him. I took a deep breath, steeling myself in case he decided to say something.

"Nice to meet 'cha!" America said pleasantly. America's bright blue eyes, though it was clear he was trying to be discreet, roamed over France's poorly covered body.

"Hey!" Hungary said laughing. "The bell's going to ring in a couple minutes." I nodded, it seemed like quite the long half hour.

America again smiled, "Guys we should all hang out – y'all know what the coolest place in town is?"

"Ohohohoh! That would be the Ballroom!" France inputed, jumping onto America's lap.

The amazing part was, America didn't seem uncomfortable at all, with the Frenchman in his lap "Sounds perfect! Let's do it! Tonight? What dy'all say?"

There were cheers of agreement from people all over the room. America stood and addressed the whole room.

"Kay! Everybody! Tonight at the Ballroom! Wear your best!"

Well, this would be interesting.

**AN: Hey y'all! I hope you're having a good day and that you enjoyed the story. ;o) Well, where I am, it's Friday, August 9th so...I didn't lie! ;o) The next chapter will be up by Tuesday, August 13th Pacific Time. :O)**


	3. Chapter 3

**My sister and her friends **were chatting excitedly about the pow-wow at the Ballroom for the rest of the day and during class, people were all whispering to each other about what they were going to wear. After dinner, there was going to be about a hour and a half period to do whatever you wanted before the party; people seemed inclined to spend that time to go shopping for new clothes and whatnot.

My sister and Hungary decided to go to a dress store – they corrected me and called it a 'boutique' though I couldn't careless what it was called. Hungary, being a second-year student, apparently knew where to go.

"Russia!" My sister squealed, it was a little disconcerting seeing her like this, "you're going with us right?" I gave her a confused look.

"Me? Why me? I don't need a dress."

Belarus laughed. "So? You should still come with us!"

"Yeah!" Hungary piped in.

And thats how I got stuck going dress shopping with a bunch of squealing girls.

**But before we could go dress** shopping – boy oh boy – I had one class left. The class with Mr. Germany.

I sat silently in my seat, twirling my pen in my hand nervously as Mr. Germany entered the room, arms crossed over his chest.

"Alright, how's everyone's first day been so far?" There were mixed murmurs of 'good's and 'bad's and a couple 'okay's. I remained silent.

"In a country, as you know, there are people. Your people are what keep you alive. Do you understand?"

Again, a lot of 'yes's. "Good, this class is on communications with your people, yes?"

"Yup!" America shouted from the back of the class. People were now excited and people cheered along with him. I don't know how he got everyone so pumped.

"Quiet!" Mr. Germany yelled. "I'm glad you're excited, but please, be calm." He took and deep breathe, his eyes closed. "I'll teach you the basics today."

I knew a long speech was coming.

"When you need to speak to your people, the best way to do so is through national news. For the most part, people will listen and spread the word on." He continued on about how people tend to respond to certain kinds of propaganda and the different ways of speaking and getting your points across and whatnot.

I scribed down some notes in my journal – which I'd received in my first class. I sighed as he repeated himself subtly to the people who needed to hear it twice.

With five minutes to the end of class, he surprised everyone. "When national new is not an option," he starts and a few people – including myself – perk up. All he'd been talking about was national news.

"you can speak to your people through your own mind."

We're all confused.

He sighs, "Technically, this is asking yourself but as you are an embodiment of your country, it generally is what your people want." He lets it sink in before continuing. "This does _not _always work, mind you – and for the most part, nations cannot speak to the people inwardly even with practice."

The class remains silent.

"But, you can ask basic questions, such as where are you from? If they answer with a different name, then you have a problem." He laugh and America and a few other try to make it less awkward by laughing too. "For your homework," the whole class groans, "I want you all to ask your people some basic questions on this worksheet."

The bell rings at that moment and Germany holds as back to pass out the worksheet. After he lets us go, we're like a herd of bulls.

Get out of our way.

**Belarus and Hungary both came out the dressing **room wearing insanely expensive dresses. Hungary wore a green one and Belarus a blue one that looked very very similar. Both long sleeved, mid-knee and had a slight amount of lacing around the waist, chest and shoulders. They looked nice enough.

"Look!" Hungary exclaimed, "we match!"

I smile at her, and nodded my head. "You both look very pretty." I flattered them, but they did look very nice.

"We should get a dress for Russia too!" Hungary laughs and goes to search the racks for something I'd assume was a XXL in girl's clothes. Or 20, or whatever they called their size.

"I'm not wearing a dress." I say with finality. My sister nods in agreement.

"He's not going to wear a dress." Oh, Belarus – you're a lifesaver.

"He'd look cute!" A dreaded voice said from behind my back. I closed my eyes and turned, not wanting to believe that _he _was actually standing behind me. France stood behind me, smirking. He had his arm wrapped around America – who was laughing obnoxiously with the white haired boy, Prussia.

"Hi," I said, doing my best to keep my voice in check. "what are you doing here?"

"Ohohoh!" He wheezes, "America needed a new dress, no?"

America blushes, "He means shirt. I need a new shirt."

I shook my head, "You know how expensive this place is right? France is probably going to make you buy it yourself."

America just smiled, "Yeah, I know. It's okay though – I got some money."

My memory was instantly brought back to earlier this morning; with the fancy car. And that America was angry, I furrow my brow – confused still over what exactly had happened. It's none of my business, I decided. "Okay." I reply. France and his new friends scampered away to go find America a shirt.

My sister and Hungary decided they liked the dresses and I paid for them – doing my best not to pay attention to the obscene price. I sighed, my sister was happy – then the price would just have to do.

**I sat in my sister's room on her bed, **facing the window with my back to her and Hungary. I could tell Hungary was helping Belarus get her dress on though – they were talking of course. I still don't know why they wanted me here. I'd bought them dresses! Isn't that enough?

"Russia." Hungary called me. "Turn around!"

I do, and they are in the dresses I'd purchased. I smile. "Pretty." I say.

I walked just down the hall to my room; deciding it was time to find my bag. "France!" I call, walking into the open door and walk in.

I stop abruptly. "Oh, um..."

America pushed France off from atop him, blushing deeply. "Hi...um, bye." America says and runs out the room – pushing past me.

France gives me a frown. "Why'd you scare him off?" He crosses his arms. He, oddly, wasn't at all embarrassed.

I, on the other hand, was blushing profusely. "Why'd you leave the door open when you were..." I had no will to finish the sentence and instead waved my hand towards the bed. "Just, just – gah." I shake my head, trying to clear the disgusting image from my mind.

"I have homework." I say after a moment of awkward silence. I sit on my bed, and pull out my pen from my pocket starting on the slightly crumpled papers I'd thrown on my bed before we'd left for the shop.

France stood still for a while, staring at God knows what before a triumphant, almost creepy smile slowly spread over his face.

"I forgot, Russia, America and I found something for you to wear to that party tonight." He turns his frightening smile on me.

"Um, yeah," I say, "about that, I'm not going to the party."

Finally, an actually emotion shows on France's face. Shock – horror. "What do you mean you're not going!" He exclaimed as though I'd said I was going to murder his mother.

I glance up at him from my work, "I mean I'm not going – isn't it self explanatory?"

"But we bought clothes just for you!" He says, every bit of that horror still on his face.

"Too bad." I mumbled and bury my head into my homework, "and by the way," I add before I forget, "I want my bag back."

He sighed. "I even got your sister a date so you wouldn't have to watch her."

I'm alarmed at this. "What'd you do?" I sneer.

"Ohohoh! I just found some nice boy – Lithinia? Was that it? Lithnihua? Whatever, the point is she has a date and that you should come – have some fun."

I blink. I wonder if Belarus knows about her 'date'.

"Who's your date?" I ask, surprising myself. This is none of my business or concern.

"Ohohoh!" He covers his mouth with his hand, "America of course! We're both perfect, of course, so we're perfect together!"

I roll my eyes, an act that my father would murder me for, "Uh-huh." I inwardly debated on whether I should go. My sister was being watched and I could do my homework and relax for a bit but on the contrary, my sister was being watched by someone I've never met, never approved, and had been picked by _France_ of all people. I decided.

"Where are those clothes you bought me?"

France smiles as though he'd won lottery – or found dinner.

"Right this way."

**I was dressed in a **dark brown dress shirt, cream colored shorts that barely covered half my thigh and the most hideous snow boots I'd ever seen in my entire lifetime. I knew I looked ridiculous but France assured me that this style was all the rage. I couldn't figure out why France was obsessed with putting me in shorts. I know he wears shorts but he's tan – his country bound to be located somewhere warm. Me? Not so much. I look at him skeptically. "Are you sure?" I ask.

He huffs. "Are questioning my fashion sense!?"

Yes, I reply in my thoughts but instead say, "No, France." I had no will to argue with this guy.

"Good!" He says after putting on his long pants and white shirt, "I'm off to pick up America. I'll see you there." He gives he a look as if to say, I _will _see you there.

"Sure." I reply, sitting on my bed and wrapping my arms around my legs, trying to hide them a little. Once he's gone, I set an alarm for when I should leave and start to finish my homework. A sheet stating the basics of our country.

_**Name: **_

I write down my name slowly, making sure each line was perfect.

_**Name: **_Imperial Russia

I stare down at the worksheet, my formal name looking strange to me. My father had changed my name many times over the years, which was normal for a country. To start the organization of our people and whatnot. But my name had always been Russia. No matter the 'formal name' on a piece of paper. I scribe Imperial out with my pen.

_**People:**_

I close my eyes, thinking of my people somewhere out in the world. I don't know where yet. But I ask them who they are question.

_**People: **_Siberian, Tartar-

I think again, trying to find the last one for I knew there was another.

_Rus, _they say, _we are Rus. _I write finally. The tribe my father named me after.

My alarm rings out shrilly in what felt like a matter of minutes and I slam my hand down on the button, staring at it. I sit cross-legged. I don't want to go out wearing this but I do need to check out this new date of Belarus. My sister's safety comes before me. I manage to walk out the room and stumble down the halls to the Ballroom – and big intimidatingly fancy room on the left side of the school with nice food that's brought to you. For a price of course.

I can hear the screaming and loud music outside with the door closed. I take a deep breath and push the door open, already self-conscious about my clothes.

I walk into the bright room, noting it was colored it warm golden tones. I admire it only for a little and then decide to look for my sister. She's sitting in a corner, nearing cooing over a boy with long brown hair and bright blue eyes. That must be...Lith...something. I quickly walk over to them, a smile on my face.

"Belarus, I need to tell you someth-" Lith-what's-his-face was saying.

"Hey little sis." I say and stare at her, stopping to a halt in front of her, smiling a false smile. "Who's your friend?" She glares at me, clearing trying to steer me away.

"I'll tell you later okay." Her teeth are clenched, still trying shoo me away.

"Hey, Latvia – look what he's wearing!" Lith-something-or-other laughs. "He looks so stupid!"

"I can't believe he actually wore what France's fashionless aunt sent him!" Soon enough, most of the room is in an uproar of laughter.

I turn to them, smiling demonically. "Let's see how it looks on you, da?"

They shirk back from me, shaking.

"Hey!" I hear America yelling at me. "don't scare the Baltics – it ain't cool bro."

I turn my overpoweringly scary aura onto him. "Maybe they should learn not to insult people."

"Brother." I hear Belarus from behind me, she's touching the small of my back – trying to calm me.

"Well, you're the one who wore stupid clothes! I thought everyone had a better fashion-sense!" Prussia, the white-haired boy retorts.

My muscles tighten, my smile only growing bigger. "Brother," Belarus pulls on my arm. "let's go."

**People then apparently **decided I was the worst thing that ever walked this earth. Weeks had past since I'd lost my temper and they avoided me like I had the plague. My little sister was also effected, though not quite in the same way. She was told by her friends to keep her distance from me. My own little sister? Really? I grew up with her; no way she was choosing them over me. Or so I thought.

Now, it seemed my little sis was starting to become one of _them_. One of the sassy, popular kids that always avoided losers like me. The whole clothes fiasco certainly shouldn't have this big a rift in my social life – even if I hadn't exactly been up to social standards to start with. The only people who acted decent around me now where Germany and surprisingly America.

One night, as I was reading my textbook, sitting cross-legged on my bed, France plopped down beside me.

I glance up at him and grimace inwardly, he had that, cruel, smile that seemed to twist his lips in a terrible way.

"France." I said in acknowledgment, just trying to tone him out. He sat there, his face twitching all funny as though he wanted me to say something.

"Well?" He snapped suddenly. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"

I looked at him, hard and cold, in the eyes. "You live here too, correct." And then tune my focus back to my textbook. Well, try.

He waved a thick envelope in front my face. "Guess what came for you in the mail!" France smiled. I noticed it was open and ripped it from his hands. I don't take kindly to people going through my things.

I took the letter from the envelope, the fanciness letting me know it was from my father.

_Imperial Russia, _it read.

_I have heard from my little Belarus that you're causing trouble around the school and not watching out for her as you promised you would. If I hear such a thing again, I will cut your tuition and you can pay it yourself if you can find a job. Which I doubt. So I recommend that you do as I say._

_ I also heard your grades are perfect. That means you're paying more attention to school then your sister. I'd demand you stop this nonsense. You are not there to learn, understand?_

_ Oh, and your mother died. _

_ Regards,_

_ General Winter_

I stare at the paper for what felt like forever, France was still sitting next to me, smiling satanically.

"You're tuition will be cut." He said and laughs. I glare at him, my eyes stinging – but France would have a easier time freezing hell over than making me cry.

"Is that really what you got from that?" I ask, licking my lips.

France's smile slowly faded. "What? Was it a code?"

Rage boils in my chest. "Nyet! You moron!" I thrust the page in front his face. "Read, you stupid idiot! Just read!"

I see France's eyes scanning over the page, going lower, lower. He reads the same line twice.

I dropped the paper onto the bed and curl myself into a ball.

He bites his lip and furrows his brow.

"I-" He clears his throat. "I did not read that far." He says. "I'm sorry, for um, for your loss."

I say nothing.

He puts a hand on my shoulder. "You know," He starts, lifting my chin so I'm looking into his eyes, "you aren't actually that bad." Suddenly a light sparks in his eyes.

"Ohohoh," He smiles.

"We're going to make you..." he sighs in happiness.

"Popular."

**AN: Sup, dudes. And yes, yes, my history's off - we're in modern times and we got in Imperial Russia and shyah, I'm aware that there were other things _before _Imperial Russia. Just bare with me, want to talk history - PM me. ;o) I hope you enjoyed regardless! Next chapter up by Friday, August 16th.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I stood there dumbfounded, completely** shocked. France had said sorry.

"Now that we're friends – I've decided to make you my new project." He puts his hands over his chest. "From the goodness of my beautiful heart."

I give him a good, hard look – which he undoubtedly missed – and furrowed my brow, since when were we friends? Yeah, I think – venom in my thoughts, the goodness of your little pretty pink plastic heart.

I stand to leave, pulling on my black snow-boots, tired of this bullshit, but he pushes me down onto my bed again. I land with an umph on the thin mattress – I can feel and hear the springs creak beneath me.

"Ohonhon," He chuckles, a devious look in his eyes, "It takes a bit, oui?" He runs his fingers through his long, blond hair and then supports himself over me with his arms next to my head. "What shoes to wear, how to..." He stopped and narrows his eyes at something above my head. "how to fix that hair..." He mutters to himself, brushing my hair to one side of my hair with the tips of his fingers.

I naturally cringe back from the touch. France pouts at me, "Now don't be that way!"

I give a skeptical look.

France is over it faster than I could comprehend and ran to the closet, which had been completely dominated by him over the few weeks of school. I swear, the clothes he'd brought had tripled since he'd come here. And that's saying something.

He returned shortly, wearing a wide grin I thought would split his face in two. I could tell already he had clothes in his hands.

"These will probably fit," He said, doubt clear in his voice though he still wore his grin. He held up skimpy pieces of fabric that I'd seen him wear once before in class.

I shook my head, "No way. I'm not wearing anymore of your clothes." I say this, I hope, with an air of finality.

"But these would look good!" He whined, shaking them at me. They were actually colors that might go with me and that I liked - a dark, dark brown for one.

"Nyet." I reply and cross my arms over my chest.

He pounces on me then, grabbing onto my shoulder, and taking off my coat before I could register – damn he moves fast – he'd moved. He attempts to force the shirt over my head – with not much luck, the clothe tears over my head. He frowns.

"Hmph, well – just wear the tan dress," He smiles, "it's pretty."

"It's an overcoat." I grumble and shrug it back over my shoulders, buckling it back together.

"Uh-huh" France says, returning to the closet to put his destroyed clothes away.

He yells at me from the closet, "It's also important to know the right sports, and my, there's some slang you _have got to know_!" I pull out my homework and glance down at the page I'd only partially finished and with much boredom started to jot down some thoughts, answers, whatever it was asking for.

"Ohohoh!"The laugh startles me and my head lifts up to see France looming over me. "Why are you wasting your time with that." He points to my math.

I shrug, "If I want my country to be strong-" I start but am interrupted by France.

"Ohohoh, non!" He laughs. "Countries; power-houses, communicates, do you think that any of them had brains or knowledge?"

I nod. "Of course."

"Don't make me laugh!" He leans in real close as if to tell me a secret. He looks back and forth, making sure no one's around. He whispers.

"They were popular."

**I sit in my 'develop your country's language class', **doing my best to imitate the strange hand motions France had shown me. I accidentally whack someone behind me. "Oh! I'm sorry-" I say and turn to the person, surprised to see America chuckling and holding his nose, which was probably bleeding – at least smarting.

"Been Francified have we?" He asks and pats me on the back, a loopy grin on his face.

I blush and turn away.

"I have to go to class." I say, standing and running down the hall to Mr. Germany's classroom. I shake my head, I'm acting like a teenage girl – this is just stupid.

I'm the first one there, as always. Mr. Germany is sitting straight at his dark mahogany desk, very intently reading a letter written on thick paper.

"Hello, Mr. Germany." I say as I do everyday and sit at my seat in the first row, pulling out my books.

"Russia." Mr. Germany says, his voice seemingly sore. "Come." I furrow my brow but rise and go to his desk. My heart thumps as my boots click against the linoleum floors.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask, silently praying I wasn't in trouble.

"No, no – quite the opposite actually." He smiles at me and hand me the letter. I quickly read it and my mouth probably dropped open.

"I've been...summoned?" I ask. "But, but I'm still a first-year student!" I cover my hand with my mouth.

Germany smiles. "I put you in the vote early, since you were so smart and you could feel your people already."

The vote, which happened only once every five years, is a big deal. It determines which country is ready to get their actual land mass. The four or so countries chosen then go to the capital were the voters locate there soon to be land and people.

I gulped. "So, so I...I go to the capital?" Germany smiles and nods then hands me a ticket.

I stare at the train ticket – dated for a train_ today_.

"You may go when ever you'd like." Germany says.

I turn to leave but, again, bump into someone.

"Ohohhoh!" France laughs as he nearly falls over. I catch him.

"Come with me!" I blurt. "To the Capital City!"

**AN: Hey y'all! Sorry this is so dreadfully short...I'll do better next time - I swear. ;o) Next time's Saturday, August 24th. **


End file.
